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EARLY AND MORE 
RECENT POEMS 

DAVID D. WELLMAN 




Price $2.50 



Published by 

D. D. WELLMAN 

Los Angeles, Cal. 

1918 



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PREFACE 



[a m^ irxtnbs nnb to tl|c public: 

IF'E is like a sunny valley, 

Where the fields are often screen; 
And its more attractive pleasures, 
Like the flov^ers that are seen ; 
And this little bunch of poems, 

Which I offer you today, 
Are to me a fev^ wild blossoms, 
I have gathered by the way. 
Yours sincerely, 

D. D. W. 




-"■-^-' 




I drew her fondly to my heart. 
And kneeling on the green, 

Cupid crowned me glorious king, 
And Isabella queen. 



I 



A CONQUEST OF CUPID 

AN CUPID" came into my path, 
One morning bright and fair ; 

His face so stern I knew his wrath 
Was more than I could bear. 

"You are my prisoner!" he cried, 

"I shall not let you go," 
Then in an instant from his side 

He drew a shining bow. 

And from his quiver seized a dart, 

His aim at me so true. 
For ere I breathed, my poor, dear heart 

Seemed pierced through and through. 

I fell exhausted at his feet, 

I thought I was to die. 
When in his hand he held a wand 

And wildly waved it high. 

"Rise up!" he shouted unto me, 

I stood upon my feet. 
No pain I felt from the blow he dealt , 

My healing seemed complete. 

Now life to me became more grand, 

My foe became my friend 
Who beckoned me with tiny hand, 

Attentive ear to lend. 

And then in confidential tones 

He whispered unto me, 
"A heart I know, as pure as snow, 

Is offered unto thee." 



"You stare as though you do not know 

The lovely one I mean, 
I came to crown you king of hearts 

And Isabella queen." 

"Your kingdom shall be two fond hearts, 
The world will be your throne ; 

And you'll belong to Isabelle 
And she will be your own." 

I raised my eyes to glad surprise, 
Sweet Isabelle was there — 

Her face as bright as the morning light, 
And so supremely fair. 

I drew her fondly to my heart. 

And kneeling on the green, 
Cupid crowned me glorious king, 

And Isabella queen. 

And now we move along through life. 

As happy as can be, 
And Isabelle, my dear sweet wife. 

Just lives for love of me. 

Now she's ever near my side, 

I worship at her shrine, 
With Isabella for my bride 

The world, the world is mine ! 



p 



FRIENDSHIP 

HAT a beautiful word, what a beautiful theme ; 
My center of joy in life's happiest dream. 
Of her charms, captivating, so oft I imbibe ; 
Their influence o'er me, no tongue can describe; 
They've set all my musings and fancies at play, 
And made me her captive forever and aye. 



Her words, sweetest music, I welcome their strain, 
Which my bosom reverberates over again, 
'Til my soul, all atune, seems to join in the chime. 
And I'm moved into ecstasy, truly sublime ; 
Then I whisper, oh. Friendship, believe even me, 
That I am sincerely devoted to thee. 

Without thee, life's object would vanish from sight, 
And from sorrow my spirit would soon take its flight, 

For the bonds of true friendship, so sacred and holy, 
Seem not of my life just merely a part — 

I feel my existence is covered up solely 

With visions of friends I hold dear to my heart. 



® 



TO THE DISCONSOLATE 

O those who see no joy in life — 
You have great cause to envy me, 

Much happiness in it I find 
For joy in many things, I see. 



The glorious sun that wakes the dawn. 
And forth in all his splendors shine, 

Reveals to me this wond*rous world 
And many blessings that are mine. 

I gaze in wonderment and awe 

On many things that meet my eyes. 

For grandeur everywhere I see 
Upon the earth and in the skies. 

The bright blue sky, the storm clouds sweep, 
The towering mountains, and the sea, 

Each seems to move my soul the most; 
So great are all their charms for me. 

I love the hills, I love the vales, 

I love the undulating plain. 
And prairie land, so broad, the eye 

May seek its bounding lines in vain. 

The river and its winding course 
Fm ever charmed, indeed, to see. 

Its varied scenes out from its source 
Are all a cause of joy to me. 

I love the dapper, sparkling rill. 

Each prattling brook and dimpled lake, 

And every little nook and glen 

Where the resounding echoes wake. 



I love the green leaves and the trees, 
And all the waving grain and grass, 

And flowers oh! I love them so 
I often kiss them as I pass. 

Sweet breezes kiss my willing cheek. 
And murmur gently as they go, 

Whisp'ring of their travels o'er 

The meadow where the blossoms grow. 

And birds that sing, on quivering wing, 
To greet me at the early dawn. 

You must be truly sad, indeed, 

If joys like these from you are gone. 

Then, waken from your troubled dream, 
And see the sights that I can see. 

And you will feel that you are blessed 
And you'll be happy, too, like me. 



12 



CASTLES IN THE AIR 

O doubt you've heard old people tell 

Of younger ones misled, 
Who didn't wisely take the path 

In which they ought to tread ; 
And v/ith parental sympathy, 

To openly declare 
The fall was due to early building 

Castles in the air. 

Though this is true sometimes, indeed, 

Yet those who thus did fall 
Would hardly make a grand success 

Of anything at all; 
And had they not so fallen. 

Their feet would find some snare 
That might have led them more astray 

Than castles in the air. 

A castle in the air, you know, 

Is some ideal, grand. 
You sometime hope to realize 

By efforts of your hand ; 
But many falter by the way. 

And in a mock despair 
They let their hopes all tumble down — • 

Their castles in the air. 

And oft' then vilely turn away 

To sinful paths instead, 
In vengeance on the purer life 

Which previously they led ; 
And then to justify themselves, 

They lay their reasons there — 
'Way up among the ruins of 

Their castles in the air. 

13 



But none who are true-hearted 

Will so quickly leave the chase; 
If their castle falls, another, 

They will rear again in place ; 
And with this dear experience, 

They'll use the greater care. 
To bring all safely to the ground, 

This castle in the air. 

Your castle may be office high, 

Or lord of some estate. 
To lift a fallen brother. 

Or to be a writer great. 
To master some profession 

Or to win a lady fair. 
Abundant are materials 

For castles in the air. 

Just think of all the good deeds 

Our greatest men have done, 
And of all of life's hard battles 

Which they bravely fought, and won ; 
And of all the care and hardships 

Which they must have had to share, 
They were, doubtless, moved to action 

By bright castles in the air. 

Then if you've no air castles 

That you cherish in your heart; 
Will you kindly let me tell you 

It is time you'd make the start? 
And build up shining castles, 

(For there's little time to spare), 
If you would succeed in life, 

Build castles in the air. 



14 



Build up your precious castles 

'Til they reach to such a height 
That the eagle, from his aerie, 

Will not scale them in his flight, 
So that every glitt'ring tower 

Will reflect upon a stair 
That leads to sure foundations 

For your castles in the air. 

And though some fall, then others raise 
Up still more grand and rare ; 

In leisure time, through all your days, 
Build castles in the air. 




One nation way we ever be— 
One flag— and that Old GIot%?. 



(§ 



UNCLE SAM 

UR UNCLE SAM is good and kind 
To all who will do right, sir, 

But those who trample on his toes, 
May well prepare to fight, sir. 



Just look his glorious record o'er. 

He's never had a flop, sir. 
With enemy on any score 

But he came out on top, sir. 

John Bull, his daddy, used him rough. 

When he was but a lad, sir, 
And so he just threw off his coat 

And thrashed his noble dad, sir. 

The old gent couldn't realize 

Just how the thing was done, sir, 
And so he craved another flop 

With his beloved son, sir. 

And came up gruffer than before. 

Lost honors for to win, sir. 
But Sammy threw his coat once more 

And thrashed his dad again, sir. 

The next, you know, was Mexico 

To try our Uncle's sand, sir, 
And for the insult Uncle Sam 

Accepted half her land, sir. 

Then southern sons were pickin' bones 

About the Dixie line, sir, 
'Til Uncle Sam got roarin' mad 

And thus he spoke his mind, sir. 

17 



"You'll have no Dixie line at all, 

My land you shall not sever, 
And, too, those human slaves you have, 

You must release forever." 

But still, those sons were obdurate, 
And swore they wouldn't mind, sir. 

From morn 'til eve they'd shout and prate 
About the Dixie line, sir. 

'Til Uncle Sam (through grief and rage, 
Tears down his cheeks went dashin') 

He says, '*I really must go down 
And give those boys a thrashin'." 

And down he went, the grand old gent, 

So famed in martial story. 
One nation may we ever be — 

One flag — and that, Old Glory! 

Then Mrs. Spain blew up "the Maine" 

And for a gruff reminder, 
Our Uncle penned her in at home 

Where evermore you'll find her. 

Then fondly oft with voices soft, 

Let's tell his wond'rous story, 
And give due praise to "Uncle Sam," 

Due honor to "Old Glory." 



18 



TO MISS JENNIE W- 



3 



AM happy, dearest Jennie, — 

And it's pleasant out today; 
So I'll write to you a letter. 

In a most unusual way: 
It will, also, be unusual 

In sincerity expressed. 
Because I, now, am writing 

To the girl that I love best. 

As the balmy breeze of spring-time 

Quickens Nature, when it blows, 
As the sun of early summer 

Gives the color to the rose. 
As the tinted robes of autumn 

Make the woodland fair to see ; 
So life is made most charming 

When I know you care for me. 

As the lark, on sunny mornings, 

Trills aloft, his joyous lay. 
As the robin, from the hawthorne. 

Cheers the traveler on his way ; 
As the bobolink, so happy. 

Warbles all the whole day through, 
So in joy your own wild song bird 

Tunes his heart to sing to you. 

I have traveled this land over. 

From the east unto the west; 
From the valley's flowery low lands 

To the mountain's snowy crest; 
To the lakes up in the north-land. 

From the highlands to the sea. 
And no other I have met with 

Is like Jennie dear, to me. 

19 



Unto me, your charming presence 

Gives all things a meaning, new ; 
And I gather in its sweetness. 

As the clover gathers dew — 
For of life, a happy dreamland, 

Does it always seem to make. 
And from which I'm often wishing 

I might nevermore awake. 

What's the need of water lilies. 

Or the smilax, and the rose; 
Or the lily-of-the-valley. 

In its meekness and repose, 
Or the daffodils and violets. 

All so beautiful to see. 
But as symbols of your beauty 

And your loveliness to me? 

So when I am absent from you. 

How I long to have you near, 
I oft wander to the garden 

To commune with Nature there, 
And I gather lovely blossoms, 

Red and white, and pink and blue. 
And I press them to my bosom. 

They remind me most of you. 



20 



THE REFORMED MISER 

^JN a town in New England, there lived an old hermit, 
^ On the brow of a hill, in a tumbling shack ; 
Who was known by some neighbors as "Tibbits, the 
Miser," 
By others, *The wicked old man of Lune Lac." 

He was ever repulsive to all other people, 
And no one was willing to bid him good day, 

And any who passed him on street, or on highway, 
Veered shyly along the far side of the way. 

His body bent over as if the poor creature 
Were bearing some great, but invisible load, 

When e'er he came forth from his mean habitation. 
Or hobbled about on the street or the road. 

His gray hair and beard were both dirty and tousy, 
His cheeks were sunk in and his nose was a hook ; 

His eyes were deep set and his forehead was wrinkled, 
O ! he'd give you a chill when he gave you a look. 

His hands were so long and so shrunken and bony. 
They seemed to have some slight resemblance to claws, 

For his fingers bent in toward the palms as if grasping 
For something, however unseen though it was. 

His ragged old clothes hung so loosely about him. 
It would seem that his form had quite shrunken away 

From what it had been on some former occasion. 
When he might have lived in a much better way. 

Though wretched to view, he was known to be wealthy, 
And owned many farms he leased out to the poor ; 

And if any should fail, for a day, on a payment. 
This heartless old man to oppress them was sure. 

21 



It was said, in a cave, he had hidden much money. 
From all other eyes, for a feast for his own ; 

Where at midnight he crawled to adore and to press it, 
And count and recount all his treasure alone. 

And for hours he'd roll on the floor of the cavern. 

And fondle his gold in delirious glee ; 
And he cried, as it noisily jingled about him, 

"O ! naught in this world is such music to me." 

One morning in winter, the miser 'rose early. 
And promptly set out to collect in his rent, 

He slipped and fell hard to the ground, near his hovel. 
And down the hill headlong some distance he went. 

He was picked up soon after, unconscious and bleeding, 
And rumor went out that old Tibbits was dead ; 

And a thrill of distress came to any who heard it, 
More because of the life he was known to have led. 

'Twas plain to be seen, he was injured severely, 
And some for his life were beginning to fear ; 

When they bore him away on a sled through the village. 
To a little free hospital located near. 

They placed him in bed and they cared for him finely. 
And tenderly watched o'er his miserly brow; 

Not knowing what moment he'd pass through the portals 
Of what, to us all, is a mystery now. 

For the doctor and nurses, consulting together. 
Opined that he had little time to survive; 

For the only slight hope that he yet might recover. 
Lay just in the fact that he still was alive. 

So they sent for the parson, to be with their patient, 
Whose soul was expected now soon to depart; 

To invoke divine mercy of Him who is able, 
In one single moment to alter the heart. 



22 



And the parson knelt down by the bed of the miser 
And earnestly sought of the Father above 

A measure of pardon and pity for Tibbits, 
According to Infinite mercy and love. 

Devoutly he prayed that this man might recover, 
And have one more chance, for the past to atone ; 

That help might come soon, or he'd pass from among 
them, 
And the last fleeting hope of redemption be gone. 

But Tibbits knew naught of the prayers of the parson, 
Or of the attendants who bent o'er his bed ; 

For he lay there some days, still alive, though unconscious, 
With much the appearance of one who was dead. 

At length, he began to show signs of reviving. 

And suddenly came to his senses again. 
And tried to arise, but, of course, was unable. 

Because of his weakened condition arid pain. 

Then he asked of the nurse, how he came to be there, 
And marveled that mercy to him had been shown ; 

And asked that they now take him back to his hovel. 
And there let him die, as a villain, alone. 

'*I'm filled with remorse for the way I've been living; 

The poor I've ODpressed oft for unearned gains, 
And had I been killed at the time I was injured, 

! what would be left me for all of my pains." 

*^l have nothing to live for, the past is before me. 
And rises like indigent ghosts in the night; 

Oh, say, let me die, and perhaps in oblivion, 
I may be forever away from their sight." 

But the miser lived on, his improvement was slow ; 

So plenty of time for reflection had he ; 
Too weak to arise, he must needs be enduring 

Whatever distresses his fate should decree. 



23 



On a cot, near his bed, lay a dear little boy. 
Who, lately, was injured in innocent play; 

Whose mother, a widow, so poor and so needy, 

Was obliged to leave home and work out by the day. 

The child was a marvel of patient endurance. 
And oft suffered long without making a moan ; 

And his tender expressions to those all about him. 
Was enough to have melted a heart made of stone. 

And soon the wee boy won the favor of Tibbits, 

They often conversed when no others were there ; 

And, nightly, the child said his prayers and would always 
Remember to mention the old man in prayer. 

His little white hands, when extended above him, 
Were surely a sight most impressive to see, 

And he often would finish his prayer by exclaiming, 
"Gk)d bless Mr. Tibbie, and mover, and me." 

But the dear child got well much sooner than Tibbits, 
And was soon out with other small children at play ; 

But he didn't forget his old comrade in illness, 
And came in to see the old man every day. 

And Tibbits was charmed by the tender attentions, 
Bestowed upon him by his dear little friend; 

Whose friendship was destined to bring him much 
pleasure. 
As he, slowly through life, drifted on to the end. 

As time passed along and old Tibbits got better, 
A new light came into his once haggard face, 

Which showed that a change in his heart was affected, 
Which no one would ever have dreamed would take 
place. 

His eyes, once reflecting the greed of the miser, 
With tender benevolence now seem aglow; 

His hands, that once clung to his treasure so firmly, 
With help for the needy are ready to go. 

24 



When at length the old man regained usual health, 
And out in the streets of the village was seen ; 

One would hardly have known it was Tibbits, indeed, 
He now was respectable, decent and clean. 

In town, Mr. Tibbits owned two pretty houses. 

With gardens and lawns and some evergreen trees 

So arranged on the lawns that each had the appearance 
Of where one might live undisturbed and at ease. 

One of these, free of rent, he gave to the mother 
Of that dear little boy, to keep for their home ; 

The other he kept for himself to reside in ; 
But we hardly could say he resided alone. 

For the town folks, so glad of the change that came o'er 
him. 

Insisted on doing for him some kind deed ; 
And Tibbits was happy among all his neighbors, 

And made it his business to help those in need. 

And he joined the church of the parson I've mentioned, 
And every Lord's day found him there in his pew ; 

And gladly he watched for a chance to be doing 
Whatever good service there might be to do. 

And to the free hospital gave he much money; 

That place where his soul was made over again — 
That place where his heart changed from that of a miser 

To one dearly loving his own fellow men. 

He searched out the sick and the poor and the helpless, 
And asked for a chance some assistance to lend; 

And his only reply, in response for a reason — 

"I would be your neighbor and brother and friend." 

He furnished warm clothes and new shoes for poor chil- 
dren. 

Who suffer so much on a cold winter day ; 
And no one was hungry, if Tibbits should know it. 

And no child lacked things which are needed for play. 

25 



He purchased new sleds and new skates and new marbles^ 
For those of the destitute, dear little boys ; 

For poor little girls, he bought dolls and bought ribbons,. 
And other nice things which a child most enjoys. 

Thus, on through the rest of his life he was happy 
In doing much good for the poor and oppressed ; 

And he sought out the widow and orphan, to help them. 
Before, for assistance, they made a request. 

And after some years of this merciful service, 
The old man was happy to hear the last call ; 

Surrounded by intimate friends of all ages. 
Sincerely beloved and lamented by all. 

Many loving hands tenderly laid unto rest, 
The man who on evil had turned his back; 

The man whom they once knew as Tibbits the Miser, 
But later— The blessed old man of Lune Lac. 



26 



LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF THINGS 



m 



what a change there would be on this earth, 
Why ! sorrow would surely take wings, 
people would only change sorrow for mirth, 
By a glance on the bright side of things. 



There are so many people, now downcast and sad, 

Overshadowed by deep sorrowings, 
Who might well instead be joyous and glad. 

If they'd look on the bright side of things. 

O, yes, we too often give up to despair, 
When we know that joy near to us clings; 

We feel that our lot is but sorrow and care. 
This is not on the bright side of things. 

And what do we gain by a despairing thought? 

Why, nothing but sorrow it brings. 
Then why don't we look at all things as we ought — 

Just look on the bright side of things. 

Can I tell, do you ask me, where is a bright side. 
When sorrow all 'round one up-springs? 

But the answer I make, is with joy and with pride, 
That there still is a bright side to things. 

It is much in the way that we look at our lot. 

Whether life be of woe or blessings. 
But the truth is, this earth is no sorrowing spot. 

If we look on the bright side of things. 

O, yes, if we look at all things as we should, 

Our sorrow would lose all its stings ; 
Take God at his word (all things work for our good), 

This, friends, is the bright side to things. 

27 



^ 



TO THE JOYOUS 

: fjrr/r.xr<\ tijrou;/h thin \\i'<t I '//), 
How HinxYiif/i it H^^ftrn:-: to rrj<;; 
Sorn^t \i('.<)\i\i' ■if'Jtw to b*; born of wo<;, 
WhJUi oth <^rH can joyouH h^;. 

J'>ijt Jt'H of th<i joyouK on<; FH ;-:j:><:ak, 

i\'A\f>\y/M w^i hav^i of wo^j). 
Cjh, pn^ciouH onf^ oh! hcavcifily br^-ak 

rjf HunnhirKt hara b*;low. 

for v/b(-n our joJly frj<;nd;i ar<; n<;ar, 
Th^tJr \>ri;?Mr\('J: rnak^^H uh ;^lad, 

Or \)nri'//d full m^^aHun; of K^>od chc^^r, 
'j'o any h<;art that'H Had. 

And 7<:t hov/ Hir'riny/t U) uh it Keems, 
'1 h^^y'r^t alwayn blithe, and ;<ay, 

WYiftn ofU'ji fortjjn^/.H Kunny b^^anriK 
ReHt hrii(hi<:r on our v/ay. 

O, who could Hay <inou;/b in prai»e 
Of thoKe who Koothc our p^Jrj ; 

Who, by their winnornc, ch (:':rf ul v/ayi, 
P>rln;/ to UH joy aj^ain. 

Too many doleful Horrow findn, 

Too ffiW by natur<^ jrlad ; 
So if the one who readn thene linen 

Should be a one that'n Had : 

Then tell rne, would you ever be 

The joyful, winnorne one, 
Who bid:-: depreH:^:in;/ Horrov/ flee. 

And cheerH the lonely on? 



Then, kindly friend, when e'er you may, 

O! play a joyous part; 
And sorrow soon will flee away, 

And joy will find the heart. 



30 



A LETTER TO MOTHER 

>-p| BAREST MOTHER, — I am sure that you 

J J Will laugh at me this time, 
' rjwhen you see Fm so presumptuous 
f As to write to you in rhyme; 

^^ But prose would be too common, 

I must write this as a poem, 
For I am about to tell you 
David D. is coming home. 

I have often wondered, lately. 

How I've stayed so long away. 
And if any one should ask me why, 

Fm sure I could not say; 
If I were asked my reasons, 

I am sure I couldn't show 'em 
So I have at last decided 

David D. is coming home. 

But what hastened my decision. 

Of my coming now, so soon. 
Was a dream I had while napping 

On my cot this afternoon; 
I thought that a tiny fairy, 

From a place she called Florome, 
Came to me and gently asked me 

If I wouldn't soon go home. 

Then she told me you and father 

Had been lonely, long, for me, 
And oh, what depths of pity 

In her face I seemed to see, 
As she, all in childish accents, 

Begged me nevermore to roam, 
And to give to her my promise 

That I would at once go home. 

31 



And with all her gentle pleading 

Came the thought of home, and you, 
So I promised, and assured her 

To my promise I'd be true ; 
Then she gave me three sweet kisses, 

And departed for Florome, 
Did the pretty little fairy, 

Who implored me to go home. 

But the moment she departed, 

O, how changed was everything. 
For the world at once awakened 

From cold winter unto spring; 
And to time the brooklet's singing. 

My heart was metronome. 
As I started for the station 

To take the train for home. 

And wild song birds, by the wayside, 

Sang sweet songs, and all for me, 
And the bull frog tuned his fiddle 

To a more melodious key, 
While his children, in the mill-pond. 

They just made the water foam. 
As they danced and sang in chorus, 

David D. is coming home. 

All the world seemed glad for Davie, 

Everything my eyes could meet, 
E'en the grass blades leaned toward me, 

Eager for my coming feet; 
And the violets sprang to blossom. 

From the yet half frozen loam. 
Just to whisper to each other 

David D. is coming home. 



32 



Now all nature, in abundance, 

Seemed replete with peace and joy, 
And communing, oh, so kindly. 

With your home returning boy; 
To my heart 'twas like the healing 

Of the wonderful Siloam, 
When this truth came o'er me stealing, 

David D. is coming home. 

But soon I reached the station. 

Which is distant half a mile. 
And the people there in waiting. 

Had for me a pleasant smile ; 
And I heard a lady whisper 

To a man she called Jerome, 
"Have you heard the latest tidings? 

David D. is going home." 

Then the jovial operator 

Sent a message o'er the line. 
That all other trains be side-tracked. 

Just to clear the way for mine ; 
And so it be known, distinctly. 

Why such orders now should come. 
He added in concluding, 

David D. is coming home. 

But we hadn't long to wait until 

Our train came thund'ring in. 
And still a fond thought found me. 

E'en among that noisy din, 
Of how soon I might be sailing 

O'er this railway hippodrome. 
And that within two hours 

I might be with you at home. 



Then the locomotive engine 

Seemed to have a nervous cough, 
Like the hound when game is scented, 

Panting, eager to be off; 
And the ground seemed all a-quiver, 

Down to the abode of Gnome, 
As I rushed for a car platform 

And sprang on the train for home. 

But hardly was I seated, 

Till our train began to fly. 
For the awful speed we traveled, 

No wild pigeon need to try. 
And one station where we slackened. 

Which the brakeman called Kane's *Ome 
Were a crowd merrily shouting, 

David D. is coming home. 

And those words, how sweet their music. 

There is none but me can tell ; 
Why, I seemed to hear them ling'ring 

In the chiming of the bell. 
And to hear them in the whistle, 

Quivering from the engine dome. 
With ten thousand echoes answ'ring 

David D. is coming home. 

Yet, it seemed but a few moments, 

We sped on again, so fast, 
'Til the brakeman came and called aloud 

Our station's name, at last; 
And the jolly old conductor. 

Whom we know as **Mr. Tome," 
Shook me by the hand, exclaiming — 

David D. you're now at home. 



34 



But, until I reached the station, 

My joy wasn't half complete — 
For a hundred little maidens there 

Strewed flowers at my feet. 
Each with hair entwined with roses, 

Held by a gold circle comb. 
Who so sweetly sang together, 

David D. you're welcome home. 

Then, with outstretched arms to greet me, 

I saw you when I awoke. 
But to feel I'd been the victim 

Of a wond'rous dreamland joke ; 
And I seemed, for a few moments. 

So bewildered, I was dumb. 
But all the more determined, 

David D. is coming home. 

So have Nina at the window. 

All the rest be at the door, 
Just to watch me skip the gutter 

As I pass by Amsler's store, 
With my new bandanna sailing, 

And my hair a-flying some. 
And my bundle in my waistcoat, 

David D. is coming home. 



35 



% 



LETTER TO MISS NETTIE G- 

IS sweet to be from labors free, 

With many moments leisure; 
To take my pen, and write again 
To you Miss Nettie G 



Now comes anew, sweet thought of you. 

Which ever near me hovers; 
Returns again, bright scenes of when 

You and I were lovers. 

O, happy time, moments sublime, 

Moments weighed down with pleasure; 

Their memory shall ever be 
My heart's unceasing treasure. 

And memory, dear, returns you here, 

So vividly and near me, 
I speak tonight the words I write, 

And half believe you hear me. 

And with you come scenes of your home, 
With your kind friends to greet me; 

Now one and all, my name they call, 
And kindly come to meet me. 

They're very near to me, and dear. 
Nor need I further prove them; 

My heart does ache, for friendship's sake, 
To tell them how I love them. 

But better than this, sweet lips to kiss, 
Bright eyes much love revealing. 

Are in the maze of happy days 
That's o'er my memory stealing. 



'Tis sad to know how soon must go 
The pleasure, now I borrow; 

For in its place, I'll only trace 
Repressed but deepening sorrow. 

But though I know the future's so 

Dark ahead and o'er me. 
The past's bright ray, a little way, 

Yet casts some light before me. 

So onward I shall eager try 
The right path to discover, 

Until the cloud may form my shroud. 
Or till the storm is over: 

With glimpses back along a track 
With lovely mem'ries shining; 

These mem'ries mine, like ivy vine. 
Around my soul are twining. 



38 



BENTON'S VISION 



/>t\NE evening when the sun was low 
llri I wandered from my humble 
\lr/Into the wood I chanced to go 



I wandered from my humble cot; 

to the wood I chanced to go 

And there deplored my hapless lot. 



'Twas springtime, and from shrub and tree, 
Wild songbirds trilled their joyous lay, 

But all their joy was woe to me 
For I was once as blithe as they. 

But ah ! there's been a change since then, 
That change, the cause of all my woe ; 

Nor did I hope for joy again 

For life, itself, seemed but my foe. 

There wandering *mid wild blooming flowers, 
As I breathed their fragrance in the air, 

I hoped for ease in those sweet bowers. 
But little solace found I there. 

For it seemed that Sorrow's poisoned dart 
Was to but one errand then consigned, 

And that to pierce my very heart 

As these wild thoughts came in my mmd. 

Oh why was I so luckless born 

To drudge through life my bread to earn. 
To live in poverty and scorn, 

And now forever doomed to mourn? 

Though I must labor day by day. 

Yet labor I would never scorn. 
Had death not called my love away — 

My Emmo is forever gone. 



Since Emmo's dead, the darling child, 
The only love I've ever known, 

I'm from all joy and peace exiled, 

For all bright hopes with her have flown. 

There in the wood, where I had strayed, 
My sorrow seemed to reach despair ; 

For I knelt on the earth and prayed 
In hope to ease my grief in prayer. 

Then unto heaven I loud did cry, 
But as I knew naught in response, 

I then and there resolved to die, 
To end my wretched life at once. 

When heaven and hope, and love and peace 
Seemed all at once to cease to be. 

My sorrow could but then increase 
And proved at last too much for me. 

I drew my blade in thoughtful mood. 
And stroked its steel caressingly, 

I thought how it would taste my blood ; 
Would rend me from my misery. 

This life to me had lost all charm ; 

I raised my dagger high in air — 
Oh, what was it that caught my arm? 

I looked, I saw a lady fair. 

I viewed her face in awe, serene, 

For she looked kindly into mine. 
Such beauty I had never seen, 

I thought that she must be divine. 

And that she had, from some heavenly strand, 
Come forth to hear my eager prayer. 

And reached to stay my wilful hand 
Because she knew my wild despair. 



40 



These thoughts to me were sweet relief; 

They seemed to soothe my troubled brain, 
And to dispel much of my grief, 

For I became myself again. 

Then quickly, from my trembling hand, 
I threw my gleaming knife away. 

And speechless there, I seemed to stand 
To hear what might this lady say. 

For then my heart was touched, indeed, 
To think that Heaven had been so kind 

To bid that lovely creature speed 
To ease my poor distracted mind. 

Her cheeks were like the roses red. 
Well wont to vie her lily brow. 

While golden curls hung 'round her head 
And her blue eyes, oh ! I see them now. 

The while I stood enwrapped, amazed. 
To view this wond'rous damsel o'er 

I noticed, as I wondering gazed 

That costly were the robes she wore. 

Her dress seemed made of satin white, 
Tied back with sash of crimson hue. 

Around her waist and knotted tight. 
Which left her beauteous form in view. 

And she wore crimson slippers, small. 
What tiny feet they aye must hold, 

And o'er her shoulders hung a shawl 
Of purple color trimmed in gold. 

And on her wrists were golden bands. 
And from her bosom diamonds shone; 

I looked then at her lily hands. 
But as to rings she wore but one. 



41 



I started when I saw her ring 

'Twas like the one that Emmo wore ; 

How quickly back fond memories spring 
Of days of happiness of yore. 

I viewed her long, at last she spoke 
Her voice so gentle, fond and clear, 

In kindest tones that silence broke. 
As it echoed through the evening air. 

"How could you be so rash, dear Ed. 

To take your life is sin, indeed," 
And then so pleadingly she said 

"Your future's bright, oh ! do take heed. 

I know your sorrow's hard to bear, 
But that will shortly pass away. 

Each night of trouble, grief and care 
But brightens into pleasure's day. 

Your mind, by grief, is so oppressed ; 

You're so o'ercome by sorrowing, 
Come sit by me awhile and rest; 

And if 'twould please you I will sing." 

Astounded by her gentle mien. 
It seemed I knew not what to say, 

I closed my eyes up from the scene. 
And for a moment turned away. 

Then turning to my seraph again, 
I saw, beside her on the green. 

Stood a golden harp which until then 
It seemed, some way, I had not seen. 

She was gently toying with its strings, 

And seated on a log near by. 
And all in child-like wonderings 

Seemed waiting for my late reply. 



With that sweet face turned unto mine, 
How could I have a thought of fear 

That she possessed untrue design, 
So I made answer free and clear. 

O ! lady sing, I eager cried. 

How can you be so kind to me — 

A wretch who would have vilely died 
Had it not been, dear one, for thee? 

She smiled and shyly tossed her head. 
Her fingers o'er the harp strings ran, 

Though nothing then to me she said, 
But presently her song began. 

Then what melodious sounds I hear! 

Had a favored choir of Heaven, from choice. 
Thus all secluded wandered near 

To mingle with her lovely voice? 

O, no it was her fingers, small. 

That o'er the strings so light did fly; 

That hardly seemed to touch at all. 
Produced that wond'rous melody. 

(SONG) 

I will sing unto you of my beautiful home. 
Which sometime I hope you may share ; 

And e'en now I do earnestly wish you might come, 
For there's nothing but happiness there. 

One moment with me in that wonderful land, 
Would be worth all the trouble you bear; 

So watch and be faithful, it's nearly at hand, 
There is nothing but happiness there. 

Oh mourn not, the trials and hardships you meet, 
They are given you but to prepare 

For the beautiful home that awaiteth your feet, 
There is nothing but happiness there. 



43 



Our hearts are so full of pure pleasure and peace, 

That there is no room left for care; 
And it seems that each moment our joy doth increase, 

There is nothing but happiness there. 



And as her song was thus complete, 
Her voice still echoed in the air, 

There sang a host of voices sweet 

*There is nothing but happiness there." 

Then turning unto me, she said, 

*'But little longer I can stay, 
For when the sun's last rays have fled 

Then I must also flee away." 

"And won't you promise ere I go 
If not for more than for my sake. 

That while you live on earth below. 
You'll seek no more your life to take?" 

I promise, unto thee most dear. 

But do tell me from whence you came, 

And how you knew that I was here. 
And how you come to know my name. 

She pulled the ring off from her hand 

And gently held it out to me ; 
And there, within that glitt'ring band, 

I saw most plainly E. to E. 

heaven ! it was my love, my own, 
And I knew not, my Emmo, dear, 

Though fair indeed on earth I own. 
She seemed now so supremely fair. 

And this, the ring she used to say 

She treasured much and wore with pride, 

1 placed it on her hand the day 

-She promised she would be my bride. 



I sprang to clasp her to my breast, 
That I might yet prolong her stay, 

But smiling, to some land more blessed, 
She vanished with the sun's last ray. 

Thus left alone, I pondered o'er 

The blissful moments now just past, 

Nor did I e'en their loss deplore, 
I knew they were too bright to last. 

And in a meditative mood, 

I turned toward my home again, 

Resolved to live now, as I should ; 
And be a better, nobler man. 

And not to take to heart so much 
The troubles that around me fall ; 

Believing now that even such. 
Are for the better after all. 



45 



BEAUTIFUL SPRING 

^Q EAUTIFUL spring-time with flowers all in bloom, 
^S3 Diffusing their fragrance — how sweet their perfume — 

The cold winds are gone and old Winter, so white. 
Has heard the glad tidings and taken his flight; 
The birds in the trees now joyously sing, 
All seemingly thankful for beautiful spring. 

The silvery brook as it dashes along, 

How it lightens our hearts with its gurgling song; 

And all 'round about, ah, how grand is the scene — 

The fields are o'er spread with a carpet of green, 

And the trees are all budding, their green leaves to bring. 

To add to the grandeur of beautiful spring. 

The sun seems to be with more beauty arrayed, 

Why, at no other time is such splendor displayed; 

It seems to awaken a spell that's profound. 

We, almost, seem walking on enchanted ground. 

The spell seems to rest upon everything 

And makes the more pleasant, our beautiful spring. 

Oh! when we're surrounded by Nature, so fair, 

We are charmed at the presence of beauty so rare ; 

And if then we are musing on Man's awful fall. 

We feel, he's not fallen so low after all ; 

That some relic of Eden must still to him cling. 

While he counts with his blessings, most beautiful spring. 



47 



31 



IN YOUR MEMORY OF THE PAST 

F the fangs of cruel sorrow 
Never loosen from my heart; 
If our destiny has willed that 

We must, henceforth, be apart; 
There's a solace to relieve me, 

Whi^h I'm sure will always last, 
If you say you'll kindly greet me 

In your memory of the past. 

You will see me all emotion. 

Ever keenly filled with pride, 
When e'er I chanced to realize 

That you were near my side; 
You will notice my enjoyment 

In these moments, flitting fast. 
Just to know that you were near me, 

In your memory of the past. 

There you'll see me meet your glances 

With a look of glad surprise; 
You will see unbounded friendship 

Beaming for you from my eyes. 
So you'll know that I was happy 

When I thought that I was classed 
With those you deemed your true friends. 

In your memory of the past. 

You will see me, at our parting, 

Clasp you in a fond embrace; 
You will see the look of anguish 

That is plain upon my face : 
You will notice, when we've parted, 

How I'm standing here aghast 
At the thought that I must leave you, 

In your memory of the past. 



Dearest Anna, lest it be that we 

Might never meet again, 
Will you make that little promise, 

It will save me so much pain? 
It will be to me, consolment. 

While I'm saddened and downcast; 
Say, oh, say you'll kindly greet me 

In your memory of the past. 



50 



A 



LIGHT THAT'S NEVER FADING 

S MOMENTS come on lightning wings, 
And go again as fleeting; 

A something grand this life contains, 

For which my heart is beating : 
It tempers all my darkest hours. 
My brighter ones pervading; 
And it is what I love to call 

"The light that's never fading." 

Oh! hallowed shrine for feet like mine, 

So very prone to stumble ; 
For one whose sphere is filled with care. 

And duties very humble, 
And many a path that leads to sin, 

I might be found invading, 
But for the ever-present light — 

The light that's never fading. 

This light is of my own dear friends, 

And rests with me so kindly, 
Wrapt in the sunlight of their love, 

The moments pass behind me ; 
And onward as through life I go, 

I hope to be evading 
The things that are unworthy of 

The light that's never fading. 

How deeply does the spirit of 

True friendliness impress me, 
The kindly act, and word, and glance, 

Contributing to bless me, 
Are precious as the light of day. 

And beautiful in shading. 
For these, all these, are emblems of 

The light that's never fading. 

51 



3 



TO THE GIRLS 

LL in wonder did I wait 
Until only just of late, 
At our young girls' startling gait, 

From a social point of view; 
But my patience did give way, 
And I am obliged to say 
I'm ashamed for them today, 
For some things they often do. 

Not that they'd do wilful wrong. 
But they thoughtless move along 
With dame Fashion's awful throng, 

Nearing degradation's brink; 
I suppose they'll call me "scold," 
Or a fogy, strange and old, 
But it's time that they were told 

That they ought to stop and think. 

How much neater was the girl. 
If Time's banner you unfurl, 
O ! the darling little pearl 

Of not many years ago, 
When she wore a bustle small, 
Then neat hoops were at her call, 
And her form was not for all, 

As it now is, a free show. 

Now dear girls, it seems to me 
You're discarding modesty. 
And to such a great degree 

That you fill me with surprise ; 
Now you choose the coarser sport, 
And at sea bathing resort 
Why , you wear your clothes so short 

That I scarce believe my eyes. 

53 



And the pretty cycler too, 

She may have a heart that's true, 

And may follow fancy through. 

But she hasn't thoughts refined, 
Or she never would allow 
Her dear form to sprawl, I vow. 
On a bicycle as now, 

A sport of the coarser kind. 

And the girl has little pride. 
Who will boldly get astride 
Of a bicycle and ride 

Down the middle of the street ; 
Who will wear those ugly bloomers 
For the many costume boomers. 
Who are looking for consumers, 

And she's surely indiscreet. 

Now some things which, here, I wrote, 

Are the only ones of note 

That I've thought of here to quote 

From your actions of today; 
But I've often thought, before. 
Of how much we'd love you more, 
If such things you would give o'er 

And I furthermore would say — 

Seek some more becoming way 
To enjoy the livelong day, 
Than my pen does here display. 

In the lines I write to you; 
Seek some higher, nobler plane 
In lifes pleasure's broad domain, 
Where there's not the slightest strain 

Of immodesty in view. 



54 



Thus to sisters, fond and kind, 
Do I freely speak my mind, 
And just as a sincere friend, 

I do beg you to reform; 
To reform in act and dress 
Till we men will all confess. 
You've regained your old-time place 

In our hearts sincere and warm. 



55 



f 



CLASS SONG 

HE time has come when the senior class 
Must from the Clarion Normal pass 
Out to new scenes and duties, new, 
So, school friends, we must say adieu. 



Chorus : 

O, Clarion, dear Clarion, 
Your well-known scenes we'll think upon, 
When we go forth beyond the hills. 
And some new place each classmate fills, 
We'll prize the time now passing o'er, 
When Normal days we know no more. 

Our Alma Mater, dearly we 

Shall hold you in our memory; 

Our teachers kind, and friends, most true, 

We'll very often think of you. 

Chorus: 

We'll often think of labors here 
Among a host of friends sincere ; 
We'll halt along our various ways 
To ponder on these golden days. 
Chorus : 

These mem'ries dear to us shall be. 
E'en of some well won victory 
O'er problem hard or simple fun 
We've had at eve when work was done. 
Chorus : 

And haply how we've strayed away. 

In joy with a true lover gay 

To woodland green or mossy dell. 

The fondest tales of love to tell. 

Chorus: 

57 



But the best thought we'll call to mind, 
When these dear friends we leave behind, 
Is even this, that we may know 
Their ''good will" follows where we go. 
Chorus: 



LETTER TO IDA 



'fiT is with the hope that you are not disgusted, 



;3i 



I really don't know what should cause you to be; 
Though perhaps I've done wrong, I have openly trusted. 
You might still read this last little missive from me. 

As the paper is laid on the table before me, 
A gleam of the light of the past comes in view. 

It seems that my friendly emotions implore me 
To write, once again, a short letter to you. 

And yet, I'm embarrassed, and writing this blindly. 
Although, for my life, I could not tell you why. 

Unless it's because I have written you kindly. 
And have not as much as one word in reply. 

I'd be sorry, indeed, if our friendship has ended, 

I am sure I have hoped to your friendship maintain ; 

Oh ! is there some way, my dear friend, I've offended, 
If there is I but hope you will kindly explain. 

Is it some base untruth that some one's been telling? 

I've been wond'ring, of late, what can there be wrong, 
Or have you on some false impression been dwelling, 

That has caused you, friend Ida, to be silent so long? 

I hope you will find it is all a mistake. 

That has caused you to treat me a little unkind ; 

That caused you your last little promise to break. 
To one who is really and truly your friend. 

Of hearing from friends, you know I'm so fond. 
But of how you'll regard this, of course I can't tell : 

And you are not blamed if you don't correspond, 
But I thought I deserved a friendly farewell. 

59 



But if what I have mentioned is without foundation, 
And you are inclined to be friendly no more ; 

Then ascribe it to this, I had no explanation, 
And you will excuse me for writing Fm sure. 

Though now, as Fm closing, myself Twill flatter, 
For my kindest regards unto you I extend. 

Still hoping, that from you I'll soon get a letter, 

And to know, as of old, that you still are my friend. 

But if you've decided you don't care to write. 

Then as friendly as ever I'll bid you, good night, 

And just to remind you of a friend, ever true. 
Will you take this, dear Ida, as a final adieu ? 




Chorus ; 



Chorus: 



Chorus: 



THE WANDERER'S SWEETHEART 

N a town not far distant, 

My sweatheart does dwell; 
And if you'll keep the secret, 

Her name, I will tell. 
She's the most perfect beauty 

That ever I saw, 
And she lives in a village. 

Which is called Saginaw: 



O, it's Bertha Magee, sweet Bertha Magee, 
How happy I'll be, if she truly loves me. 

Dame Nature, for once 

Must have made a decree. 
To bestow all her charms 

On my Bertha Magee; 
For in all of my wand'ring. 

Wherever I've been. 
As lovely a lady 

I never have seen. 



As my Bertha Magee, etc. 

At present, I'm building. 

For Bertha, a home; 
And I gave her my promise, 

To nevermore roam; 
And soon, back again, 

To her arms, I will flee. 
To reclaim, as my own. 

My sweet Bertha Magee. 



O, Bertha Magee, etc. 

61 



SWEET BELLE BALL 

A^d HAVE a sweetheart, her name is Belle, 

11 And how much I love her I cannot tell ; 

^|| But no one could be loved better at all, 

r^^ Than I love my darling, my sweet Belle Ball. 

Chorus : 

And we're to be married some day in June, 
O, time hasten on, it can't come too soon ; 

When wedding bells for us do call. 

Won't I be happy with sweet Belle Ball. 

I think of her always when I am away. 

And yet I can see her 'most every day. 
And every evening on her I call 

To again note the charms of my sweet Belle Ball. 
Chorus : 

How sweet are the flowers that bloom in spring, 
And sweet are the songs that the song birds sing. 

And sweet are the dew drops, that glittering fall — 
But sweeter by far, is my sweet Belle Ball. 

Chorus : 



63 



LETTER TO IDA B- 



(^^ AM sure, since your last little missive Fve read, 



? 



J I My last letter did really offend you ; 
J I But believe, if you ever believe what I've said. 
Most truly, I didn't intend to. 



How the thought, like a dagger, plunged deep in my 
breast, 

But now is the act past repealing; 
And all I can do is, my sorrow attest, 

With the hope, you'll consider my feeling. 

How I'm wishing tonight, I in Erie might be. 
Or wherever your eyes might behold me ; 

Then, for pardon I'd make such an innocent plea. 
You'd feel sorry you happened to scold me. 

But there's no thought of blame I could harbor for you, 

As over your letter I ponder. 
It, so all unintending, reminds me anew, 

Of how much I'm addicted to blunder. 

But, forgive me, my friend, when I chance to offend, 
The appeal of a friend, much devoted; 

And I'll read with delight, what to me you may write, 
In the thought, it was Ida who wrote it. 



65 




MARIENVILLE TO BYROMTOWN * 

O with me friend as I ambling go, 
And make my way through the deep, deep snow, 
Watch my foot prints as I make them fast, 
And we'll reach a town I reached at last. 

'Tis a long, long way over hill and dale 
To the place where ends this little tale, 
So the things I see and hear and dream. 
Shall be the source of my varied theme. 

'Twas on a cold December eve 
That I decided to take leave 
Of my dear parents and go down 
To where I worked at Byromtown. 

Of course, they begged of me to stay, 
But I did not fear cold that day, 
So I decided to go through 
Or freeze a toe in trying to. 

At half past four I started forth 
And turned again toward the north; 
And late Fd be, as oft I'd been. 
But sure, I didn't care a pin. 
For night and day, so oft before, 
That same old road I'd traveled o'er. 

And soon I reached the country where 
Some neat farm houses now appear, 
But all the thoughts my noddle brings 
Seem centered now on just two things — 
Their human tenants all had died 
Or dared not poke their nose outside, — 
So all the life that met my eye 
I'll speak of ere I pass it by: 



* FOREST CO., PA. 

67 



From out his nest in a hollow stump 

Came a little mouse with a jump, jump, jump, 

His wee foot-prints he did proudly hail, 

But mourned the mark of his little tail; 

Then to his nest again hopped he. 

Too cold, he says, outside for me. 

And on a stub sat an old hoot owl, 
And over his face there came a scowl 
As he sang his song, 'twas a doleful wail 
As it echoed through an extended vale. 
And from defiant wood and glen 
I heard that same hoo-hoo again. 

The wind blew hard and the driving snow 
Came into the road like an angry foe 
Bent on my ruin, but did no harm, 
For I trudged along secure and warm ; 
For my old great coat that every year 
I threw off never again to wear, 
Once bright and new, now worn and old, 
So oft I wore to dare the cold 
When I went courting Lucy, dear, 
Now proved again a friend sincere. 

'Twas dark before I reached McCrays 

Where o'er the road fell candle rays 

In which I halted now to warm. 

To better breast the raging storm ; 

When all at once the moon broke through, 

As if she had been ordered to. 

And clouds rolled up like heaps of hay 

In a meadow on a harvest day, 

And ere I clambered Goul's hill 

The night was clear and calm and still. 

There from a kennel a dog came out. 
And dreamed how he had me in rout, 
I struck at him, which seemed not vain, 
For the dog howled back to his coop again. 



68 



Then for a moment, sorrow free, 
My heart seemed rilled with minstrelsy. 
And I dreamed of birds returned, and spring, 
When the voice of music bid me sing. 

Then I fixed my face, but my awkward scowl 
Just made me think of that old hoot owl. 
And when I tried my voice for long 
Its echo brought the hoot owl's song. 

And now I neared the Eldridge school 
Where I felt frightened as a fool — 
A hundred witches from inside 
Seemed noting well my nearing stride ; 
And each one changed her goblin leer 
As step by step I drew more near. 
Oh dear, oh dear, what shall I do, 
They'd tear me limb from limb, I knew; 
If these vile witches grab me here 
ril never see my Lucy, dear. 
But thoughts of her made me so brave 
I stiffened, walked, like armed zouave. 
But I found them (before I'd pass) , 
But moonlight on the crooked glass. 

From there till on past Penokee, 

A sign of life I could not see. 

Which made me feel like one just hurled 

From this to some deserted world. 

But after all, what need I care, 
I feared no panther, cat or bear 
That might lurk in the bushes nigh 
To prey upon the passer-by ; 
Or robber that secluded strode 
Or waited on this lonely road. 
(I find it's often well to be 
Prepared for an emergency) . 



Now all along, on either side, 
Were thickets that man's feet defied, 
One might as well attempt a flight, — 
As to walk within these woods at night. 

Oh, what was it that caught my ear, 
A breaking of the brush I hear? 
Had some wild monster from its lair 
Crept forth concealed to grab me there? 

One hand on my revolver laid. 
The other grasped my trusty blade: 
Alone within the broad moonlight 
I ready made for desperate fight. 

Then crouched I down upon one knee. 
That my pursuer might not see — 
And waited there suspensively. 

The crackling near, and nearer came, 
Still my position was the same. 
And sure, whatever it might be. 
Would come out just in front of me. 

Come out, I whispered (very low) , 
Come out now demon, friend or foe, 
I'll never run, I will not fear. 
For then I thought of Lucy, dear. 

Then from the brush a deer stepped out — 

Ho ! here's for venison now, no doubt. 

For my revolver, well I knew. 

Could tear his deership through and through; 

And I, of quite unerring aim. 

Must never miss such splendid game. 

I seized my gun, my eyes alas, 

Beheld a toy one made of glass. 

That rascal Charlie, all in fun. 

Had changed with me — my gun was gone. 

A deer most stately, cute and spry. 

Now waved his horns at me, good bye. 

70 



Half mad, half laughing, half undone, 

I slowly 'rose and wandered on ; 

While the moon shone down extremely bright, 

And the stars they winked at me, their light. 

And nature, all, in comic mood, 

Seemed wishing me a world of good, 

As now I neared my journey's end. 

And stopped to see a workman friend. 

And kindly did he welcome me. 
And I was pleased, indeed, for he 
Was bright and jovial company. 

His mother handed me a chair; 
His jovial father too was there, 
His sister and a lady friend. 
To me a welcome too, extend. 

Awhile we talked in social way 
Upon the topics of the day, 
And other things which chanced to be 
Of interest to them, and me. 

At last the father, whispering low, 
Said Minnie, dear, now will you go 
To the organ and sing and play. 
To help us pass the time away; 
And ask your friend, he whispered too, 
If she will kindly sing with you. 

The girls both willingly complied 
And to the organ, side by side, 
Each eager now to do her best 
To help to entertain the rest; 
And music, very sweet and clear, 
Soon broke the silence reigning there. 
And voices, sweeter I am sure, 
I never chanced to hear before. 



71 



Complete, indeed, was my delight, 
To listen to them sing that night; 
For nightingale ne'er sang so sweet 
As did Miss Minnie, trim and neat. 
Nor Chorus echo from above. 
Exceed sweet Earla's song of love. 

But too, too soon their song was done. 
And all the listeners, one by one. 
Begged them repeat once o'er again 
A stanza of their glad refrain. 

One verse they sang again, once more, 
As charmingly as just before. 
And full of life, and girlish play. 
They from the organ sprang away. 

And now 'twas time for me to go. 

So thanking them, and bowing low, 

I passed along to my abode. 

To rest from wearies of the road. 

While thoughts flew back to those maidens young, 

And I dreamed all night of their lovely song. 



72 



^ 



SONG OF THE EXILE 

S I silently walk on the shore of the sea, 
And longingly gaze o'er its foam; 

I wonder if Anna is thinking of me, 
As far away, sadly I roam. 



Chorus : 

O, yes, she is thinking of me, I know. 
For she told me that she would be true; 

How gladly Pll welcome the day when 1*11 go 
Back, dearest Anna, to you. 

Though the ocean divides us, my Anna dear. 

This shore is a dear place to me. 
For I think, when I list to the waves dashing near. 

They are bringing me tidings of thee. 
Chorus : 

So cruel, the power that sent me away. 

For five years, an exile, to roam; 
Oh ! time hasten on, oh ! speed, speed the day 

That returns me to Anna and home. 
Chorus : 



73 






THE DUTCHMAN'S MISTAKE 

HAVE a short song, vich vill not take me long, 
suppose you vill call it a tale — 
s a note off old time, vich I haff in my rhyme, 
About Jonah dot svallowed a whale. 



Jonah, understand, he vas a bad man, 

Und de vaves dey arose mit a gale; 
Und dey threw him o'er board, mitout saying a vord, 

Und Jonah he svallowed a whale. 

Fm glad 'tvassn't me, und it vassn't, you see; 

I can think how his sthomach vouFd fail ; 
Und I offen do sigh, und almost could cry, 

For poor Jonah dot svallowed dot whale. 

But remember the first, it vassn't the vorst. 
For it made him feel sick und look pale, 

Und he svam to dot shore mitout effer an oar, 
Und really he threw up dot whale. 

Dot story's known veil, so I dhink I von't tell 
Off how many years since did prevail. 

But a long time, off course, makes dot story no vorse, 
'Cause Jonah did svallow dot whale. 

Py golly, py golly, Ffe made a mistake, 

Und you'll call me a gonas, 
I've sung dot song all wrong side out, 

Vas der whale dot svallowed Jonas. 



75 



§ 



WILLIE'S ADDRESS 

UR Teacher, we have heard you say 
You're going now to college 

To study things we know not of, — 
To get a world of knowledge. 



And all the scholars wish to say 

Something before you go. 
They've picked me out to speak for all 

But why, I do not know. 

Yet it will be an easy task 

I reckon 'fore it's done. 
For in our love and hope for you 

The whole school stands as one. 

We know 'twill be a long, long time 

Before we meet again. 
The girls may all be women grown — 

The boys be grown up men. 

So this is why we'll pass you by 

With ling'ring step, and slow, 
We need no other teacher here, 

We dread to see you go. 

And when you are so far away 

In places grand, and new 
Oh, will you think of us again? 

We'll often think of you. 

We'll very often think of you, 

Oh, keep us all in mind. 
This little band of faithful friends 

Whom now you leave behind. 

77 



Will you in thought see us again, 

Build forts of snow so white ; 
And will you see the surging rise 

Of our great diamond kite? 

And other sports and pastimes gay, 

Of which I need not tell; 
And will you see us rushing in 

At sounding of the bell? 

And soon in our old places, 

Will you see us all once more, 

Hard wrestling with the tasks we have 
As oft we've done before? 

And not a task before us 

Seems too great for us to do. 

While we have Miss Wilkins here 
To guide and help us through. 

Our plays you've watched with eager eyes 

In grove and nook and glen; 
O! what were then your thoughts of us? 

What were we to you then? 

We know you love us, teacher, 

And tears in every eye, 
Betoken how reluctantly 

We bid you now good bye. 

But one thing teach, oh teach us yet, 

I ask it from my heart. 
We've learned to love to have you here. 

Now teach us how to part. 



78 



§ 



GOING TO HEAVEN TO SEE PAPA 

NE morning a conductor was passing through a car 
Upon a train that swiftly sped along ; 
He came unto a little girl with sunny golden hair, 
Saying, darling, do you travel far alone? 



Chorus : 

I'm going to Heaven to see my Papa dear, 
They took him there so very long ago ; 
I know he is lonely without his little Nell, 
So he'll be waiting there for me, I know. 

My Mama's often told me how sometime we should go 

To live so happy there with Papa dear, 

But I am tired waiting, I long to see him so, 

And Willie can remain with Mama here. 

Chorus : 

I'm going etc. 

Will it take long to go there? I know it isn't far, 
For Mama says that Papa hears us pray — 
So when you get to heaven, oh, please sir, stop the car 
And then perhaps I may come back some day. 

Chorus : 

I'm going etc. 



79 



A JUNE DAY 

2V DAY in June I wandered by the sea, 
C^Where the light billows broke on the shore for me ; 
And the hawthorne tree hung its blossoms o'er my way, 
And the bobolink sang from its top-most spray. 

The wild flowers bloomed in profusion at my feet. 
Loading down the breeze with their fragrance sweet; 
While the sunbeams danced to my bobolinkon's tune, 
O ! a day for me is a day in June. 



81 



p 



ONE MISSING 

'E all went down street where we promised to meet, 
And quickly made ready our boat; 

We all got aboard without saying a word, 
In a moment we were all afloat. 



But something seemed wrong, as we drifted along. 

The wind it was blowing a gale; 
At first I looked forward and then I looked aft, 

And then I looked up at the sail : 

But nothing I found, as I glanced all around. 
Everything seemed to be well in place ; 

Then I thought, right away, why I didn't feel gay, 
'Twas because that we missed a bright face. 

Though then I was sad, I tried to be glad. 
That we might have a pleasant night's sail. 

But the harder I tried, more on this I relied. 
That my efforts were of no avail : 

For too oft' I looked back o'er our watery track. 
O'er the ripples that surged in the foam, 

With the sad thought in mind, we had left one behind- 
Our jolly Mame Briggs was at home. 



83 



K 



STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER 

1894 

T Pittsburgh, as I aimless wandered 
In a city of the dead, 
The wild birds there were sweetly singing 

In the branches overhead, 
With Nature, all, blending together, 
Bound to make a perfect day. 
But Phoebus smiling too completely, 
Made me seek the shady way. 



The while I strayed along in silence, 

I was very much impressed 
At the seeming peace unbounded, 

Hov'ring o'er this land of rest: 
And yet I could not keep from sighing, 

As I passed each little mound, 
Oft wondering who beneath was lying. 

And whose love it closed around. 

I tired soon of wandering 'round 

And sat upon a coping stone, 
And there, within a maple's shade, 

I thought to rest and muse alone : 
And as I rested there unmindful 

Of the moments, as they fled ; 
Leisurely from slabs near by, 

I many kind inscriptions read. 

I, turning, saw that just behind me, 
In a row were three or four 

Headstones, of a quaint design. 
Which I hadn't seen before. 

Then I read the quaint inscriptions. 
But imagine my surprise. 



As I read this — ''Stephen Foster** 
Plainly there before my eyes. 

I sprang up wond'ring and excited, 
And my pulses seemed a-quiver, 

Was I at the grave of Foster, 
Author of "The Swanee River?" 

0! yes, 'twas true, for mem'ry quickly 

Dispelled doubts and made it clear, 
For I remembered to have read 

That singer had been buried here: 
Oh, poet, is it here they've lain thee ? 

Is this all that tells of thee? 
It is a shame that something grand 

Rears not to thy memory; 
Humble marble slab, and broken, 

Is all that's thine as memory's token. 

Foster, some of thy sweet anthems. 

All around this world have rung, 
And for many coming ages 

Often will they yet be sung ; 
For while Pathos lingers near us. 

While her form is to us clinging. 
Oft thy melodies will cheer us. 

Thy sweet songs we'll oft be singing. 



86 



^ 



IN MEMORY OF A FRIEND 

LL alone and broken hearted 

For thee, once more Fve wandered here 
Unto thy grave, beloved departed, 

Charlie Glazier, friend sincere. 



And to the truth, thou hast died and left us, 

Must I in assentance bow? 
And that of thee, fate has thus bereft us, 

And at thy grave Fm kneeling now? 

Oh ! cruel death, to pluck this blossom 

Unfolding out to manhood's bloom ; 
To clasp our darling to his bosom. 

And lay thee in the cold, damp tomb. 

So jealous, when he took thee from us, 

And for vengeance on us he, 
All within thy hour of promise. 

Brought us here to mourn for thee. 

And tenderly, where thou art sleeping. 

Do thy friends ofF thy loss bemoan, 
And though with others Fve been weeping. 

Yet Fve really wept alone: 

For the true depths of my sorrow for thee. 

None but me can ever know; 
For words of mine cannot tell fully, 

My grief for thee in death laid low. 

But since this tiny mound enfolds thee, 

This is to me a sacred spot. 
And ofF it seems that thought consoles me 

As I deplore thy hapless lot; 

87 



For while life's moments on are speeding. 

While they sadly by me steal, 
Friend, for thee, my heart is bleeding. 

Wounded nevermore to heal. 



88 



THE NEED OF BROTHERLY LOVE 

(^i RETURNED one day from wandering 

J I 'Mong a city's wretched poor, 
/"^j Where some live, if live von cal 



Where some live, if live you call it. 
By begging bread from door to door. 



Others lived, just how I know not. 

But their lives seemed filled with guile, 

And still others, true and noble. 
Often sought in vain for toil. 

Then I paced, half wild with sadness. 
Up and down my chamber floor. 

Now convinced, still more than ever. 
That 'twas love we needed more. 

That 'twas love, and pure love only. 

That would haunt the rich man's pride, 

'Til he'd see, from these, my brothers, 
He should not so turn aside. 

Love will gently lift the fallen 

To a higher, nobler plane. 
And within the poor one's cottage 

Plenty may be known again. 

Ones of sorrow, want and trouble, 

Bordering often on despair. 
Lack of love has brought you thither. 

Lack of love still holds you there. 

But to you, and to all others 

Who may read these lines I write, 

All my thoughts go out imploring 
In a sad appeal tonight. 



How I wonder that existing 

Scenes like these should ever be, 

When the power to remove them 
Lies, my friends, with you and me. 

When, to make this earth a heaven 
Compared to what it is, I say. 

Unto us is freely given, 

Lies within man's reach today. 

Reader, learn intensive loving. 
If your heart is kind and true, 

You will see much love, all ready. 
Has gone out in search of you. 

How this heart is aching, longing 
For more love than yet we know. 

Love's the only balm for healing 
Of the bleeding wounds of woe. 

Here's a heart, it is before you. 

Much to you I will reveal. 
It is wounded when the helpless 
Are bruised by the oppressor's heel. 

It is wounded for my fellows. 
For the woes of human kind, 

Every pang you feel, of sorrow. 
In my breast k place would find. 

Say, oh say, from this time onward. 
You'll love more, your fellow men, 

With a pure and true affection 
Ne'er described by tongue or pen : 

Then within our sphere of living 
Will be born a brighter day. 

And full many a heartfelt sorrow. 
From the earth will pass away: 



90 



For more wretchedness and trouble 
Comes from want of love, you'll find, 

Than from all the other causes 
If they were as one combined. 

Let our souls, in sweet communion, 
Mingle with each other more, 

And joy unconfined will greet us. 
Such as never known before. 



91 



TO MINNIE B- 



In an autograph album. 

Winnie : — 

In future life reflections, never caring how remote ; 
Vever thinking of the lodge, in which you saw me ride the goat, 
Vor the trouble that you saw me have with old J. Pasch's bo 
It is not of my afflictions 
5^ver, I would you remind; 

[describing all the trouble, that so oft I chance to find; 
5ver, kindly, just remember all those pleasant days of yore, 
Ind how well we did enjoy ourselves at old Lake Erie's shore; 
Remember, also kindly, as the years they onward wend. 
That D. D. W. remains your sincere friend. 
(Acrostic) 



93 



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